


Far Side of the Sun

by hearden



Category: Another Earth (2011)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 05:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13228734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearden/pseuds/hearden
Summary: On a day in the winter that is as normal as any other, Rhoda meets herself.





	Far Side of the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> for new year's, i decided i was gonna rewatch one of my favorite movies of all time and then repost a ficlet i wrote last year (jan 25th actually) on tumblr kinda like a "this was my writing in early 2016 vs. now"
> 
> so anyway Another Earth is like... so good and Brit Marling is so good pls go watch all of her films (available on amazon and... illegally, probably, or just hit me up tbh i'd be glad to find a time to run a stream) and check her out in The OA on netflix!!! i love her sm
> 
> spoilers for Another Earth's ending but like only vaguely

Maybe.

There’s a fog in the air, carrying with it the numbness of winter, but the cold doesn’t touch her bones. The sky is brighter than most winters, a derivative of the sun’s light reflecting off of Earth-2 and onto Earth. Another person stands in her driveway.

Another her.

She is paralyzed, unable to move, but at the same time, trembling. A small hope forms in her mind that her shivering isn’t that noticeable, but just thinking about it causes her body to shake even harder. She hears her teeth chattering, is sure that her other self can as well.

The Rhoda of Earth-2 takes a step forward for her, her coat slightly moving in tune with the gentle breeze. Her eyes are the same shade of blue. Her hair the same kind of gold that Rhoda sees in the mirror every morning.

Underneath the collar of Rhoda-2′s coat, she spies a flash of a lanyard that’s red and grey that she can’t quite make out the writing of. But she has an idea. The way Rhoda-2 is dressed from her coat to the fashionable boots that Rhoda herself has long ago ditched the style of for ratty sneakers that have dirt in all the crevices says it all.

A university she never went to.

The potential she ruined with one decision.

Nausea rises within her, and Rhoda immediately stumbles back, causing her doppelgänger to stop in her tracks, concern written all over her face. She holds a hand over her mouth and forces herself to breathe, but it all comes out as hyperventilation. There are tears in her eyes. She closes them and feels saltwater trail down her cheeks. This possibility hadn’t been something she had considered or prepared for. Rhoda rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet, waiting for the world to quit spinning.

She opens her eyes.

Her other self is still gazing at her. Better dressed than she is. Probably wealthier than she is. Definitely more successful than she is. More put together than she is. Maybe even more alive than she is.

“Hey.”

Hearing the same voice that she’s heard in her head and coming from her mouth for two decades makes her heart stop again. She blinks and tries to ground herself in the concrete underneath her feet, but even that doesn’t feel quite real.

A conversation brings itself back up to the forefront of her mind.

“Better, um, better luck next time,” she mumbles back in response. She’s not entirely sure her other self will get the reference -- or if Rhoda-2′s even had that same conversation before. Most likely not, if what she’s assuming is right. That they’ve lived very, drastically different lives.

Rhoda-2 smiles, but her eyes speak of an amused confusion, “What?”

“N-nothing.”

There’s a drag of silence as Rhoda tries her hardest not to feel uneasy as if she’s being scrutinized by an identical set of her own eyes.

“We should get inside,” her doppelgänger suggests, “You’re freezing your nose off out here.”

Not exactly why she’s shaking.

She turns and heads for the front door, feeling her stomach drop at the sound of boots crunching on asphalt following behind her. When she gets to the door, Rhoda fishes her keys out of her pocket and briefly -- apprehensively -- worries that her parents will be home and sitting in the living room. Well, at least there’s no problem with formal introductions.

The key turns in the lock; the house is quiet as Rhoda steps inside, abruptly pausing in the doorway and causing her other self to bump into her. She ignores the apology offered to her back and instead calls out, feeling the atmosphere for occupation. “Mom? Dad? Jeffrey?” When there’s no response for half a minute and she’s satisfied, Rhoda continues onward into the house, not turning around even when Rhoda-2 speaks up again. She’s reeling still and looking for too long is going to destroy her peace of mind. Not that she quite had any to begin with.

“Would you prefer for a quieter, more private room to talk in?”

Rhoda dwells on it. They could sit down in the kitchen. Have a cup of tea or coffee as if it’s just a normal meeting. As if they’re friends reconciling after some time apart. She finds the idea appalling. If her parents and Jeffrey come home, she isn’t sure she’ll be able to stand the escalation of the quietness in the air. No, the kitchen won’t do.

There’s the sound of shuffling as Rhoda-2 strips off her coat and hangs it on the coat hanger by the door.

“Yeah. The attic’s good.” She makes a beeline for the stairs, holding onto the railing with a firm grip and hoping that she doesn’t just collapse. Her knees almost feeling like giving out, and being caught by herself isn’t something she wants to experience just yet. It already sounds odd enough.

When they get to the attic, Rhoda goes for her mattress of a bed and harshly drops herself down onto its sheets, curling her knees up to her chest. Rhoda-2 hardly steps into the room, choosing instead to linger near the doorway, her hands in the pockets of her jeans. Without the coat on, Rhoda can see that her other self indeed is wearing a lanyard from MIT, the place they both would’ve gone to had certain circumstances not occurred. There’s a student ID hanging off of the end of the lanyard. Rhoda-2 is smiling brightly at the camera, and an ID number is underneath her lively picture, too blurry and far away for Rhoda to catch the digits of.

“John came and told me about you. About what happened.”

Rhoda looks down at the floor, avoiding eye contact. She wonders if her own self is disappointed at what she sees. Here, she sees someone who made it -- someone who didn’t screw up as she had. What does her other self see? A bum living in the attic of her parents’ house. Too ashamed of her past mistakes to even let herself live in the comfort of her own, old bedroom anymore because the only comfort left for her was four white prison walls.

“On… my planet, I didn’t drive home that night.”

Of course, she didn’t. This Rhoda isn’t her. This Rhoda made the right decision, instead of the stupid one.

“I called Mom and Dad, and they were pissed. But glad that I hadn’t gotten behind the wheel.”

And she was rewarded for her good choice.

“Please, look at me.”

Reluctantly, she does. There’s sadness on Rhoda-2′s features. A deep kind of concern and sorrow.

“I didn’t know until a little while ago, but someone else hit their car that night. The John from my Earth died upon impact. His family survived.”

Rhoda wipes away the beginning of more tears with her sleeve. When she asks, her voice is hoarse: “Did-- is John with them now?”

“Yes. His wife, his son, and their second child.”

She often, momentarily, forgets that, technically, she killed three people that night, not just two. And, then, five, including the pain she caused John and herself.

“I just want you to consider that maybe it was inevitable. Maybe that’s just what every bad result is. Unavoidable.”

Rolling her eyes, Rhoda chokes out a bitter laugh, “You can’t say that to make me feel better. You’re the one who made the right choice.”

Rhoda-2 walks forward into the room until she’s right in front of the mattress. She takes a seat on the floor. Crosses her legs and rests her hands in her lap.

“When I got here, I looked up what your planet has been saying about ours. I watched the news stories, read the articles, heard all the questions and speculation--”

“Then, you must’ve heard the one where it’s asked ‘Is that me better than this me?’ And the answer is yes.”

She actually feels some regret at appearing to be and actually being such a disappointment.

Her doppelgänger shakes her head, causing her bangs to fall into her eyes. She sweeps them out of the way with her thumb, and Rhoda pretends to watch the movement with incredible interest. Eye contact is tough. Unnerving. “I have an answer, but it might not be the one you’re looking for or even the one you want. I’ve thought long and hard on it. And, correct me if I turn out to be wrong, I think it’s the one you need.”

Rhoda stiffens when her other self reaches forward, holding out a hand. It’s an invitation. One she doesn’t think she wants.

But, maybe one she needs.

She takes the hand given to her.

Given the surreality of the past half hour, she had expected something different, but what she gets doesn’t surprise her, honestly. Her other self’s hand is warm and a lot softer than hers. Less calloused. Less months spent scrubbing at toilets and mopping away at floors.

“People are always wondering what would happen if and when they meet themselves. It’s an exciting sort of mystery that can end in either satisfaction or disappointment, especially if you end up dreaming your expectations too high. There’s no telling what could or will happen, but there’s one truth among all the fabrications and wistful dreaming.”

She braces herself for the worst.

“Humans will always have a knack for self-deprecation. We are kinder to others than we are to ourselves. And, when duplicates of one person come together, it extends to that as well. There’s no hatred, no prejudice, no judgment. Why? Because there’s an abnormal sense of true completion. We can search all over the galaxy for another being who fills our soul like the way water fills a cup, but it’s only fulfilled when you see yourself. When you know with absolute certainty that the person in front of you understands you more than anyone else ever could. That they can understand your pain and your suffering without you having to spend hours pouring out your life story. And they will love you, despite it, because the only person who can love you the most, freely and unconditionally, is yourself.”

Rhoda grips the hand holding hers a little tighter; her trembling resumes, and the other hand squeezes hers back as a sign of comfort. “But, you didn’t travel to a different planet just to tell me about self-care, did you?”

“Well, no, I didn’t. I came here to tell you that I know your pain. I know your regret. Your guilt and your shame. I didn’t experience it as you did, but I am you. I’m not any better than you just because we had different results in each of our lives. We’re still the same person on the inside. And I want you to know that the weight of the world is too heavy for you to bear it alone.”

Oh, she gets it, now. “You came here to teach me about self-care.”

“If you’ll let me.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you look through some of my works, you'll start to realize that i am absolutely in LOVE with the idea of alt timeline/universe doppelgangers interacting with this like... irreplaceable, undefinable form of transcendent self-love... it's A Trend


End file.
